


Higanbana

by windsabove



Category: Ghost of Tsushima (Video Game)
Genre: Awakening of New Identities, Betrayal, Canon-Typical Violence, Casualities of War, Death, Emotional Constipation, Eventual Romance, F/M, Flower Imagery, I hope you guys have tissues, Mongol invasion, Slow Burn, double agent, khotun khan is a dick bag doo da doo da, say it with me now
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-31
Updated: 2020-09-08
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:40:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26209585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/windsabove/pseuds/windsabove
Summary: Miyu grew deaf to the screams of Tsushima long ago. To survive, her place in the Khan's service was critical. But destroying an enemy, a samurai so full of life and loyalty, took time.Time was no friend to the war-ravaged spy.
Relationships: Jin Sakai/Original Female Character(s), Ryuzo (Ghost of Tsushima)/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 21





	1. Spy in the Grass

**Author's Note:**

> Well, hello everyone! It's been a really long time since I posted/updated anything on here. This game, though. This. Game. It came out at a time when I really needed it, given the general, well, everything right now. I didn't even know I needed it until it was pointed out to me. It tore me to shreds and I loved it. So here I am, starting a fic for this beloved game. Join me for the ride, but don't forget the tissues.

It was odd, how seasons slipped by in the midst of war.

The cool breeze crept beneath her clothes as Miyu sat and leaned against her horse, his coat white like the clouds drifting against their blue canopy. One long strand of dark hair fell in her face. She couldn’t remember the last time she stopped to rest. Ever since she was given the order, she plowed through Tsushima as though a violent spirit was sent to murder her in her sleep. 

If the Mongols counted as violent spirits, then it was an apt enough analogy.

Her gaze drifted to the weapon resting in her lap. A Mongol spear, almost too ornate to be used in combat. She ran her hand along the shaft, tracing the elaborate design. It looked like a snake, though it could be a vine slithering down to choke its enemies. She spotted her reflection, albeit distorted between twisted metal and blood droplets, and quickly turned her attention to the head of the spear. Still sharp, even after repeated use. Her left hand drifted to the katana sitting quiet in its dark sheath, strung to her side. It had no place in her arsenal.

Miyu tilted her head to one side to stretch her neck, only to be met with a stiff shoulder pad whacking against her ear. She flinched, but made no sound. If not for that and the armor’s weight, she’d almost forgotten she stole it from a fleeing samurai at Komoda. She snorted. “Stole” was a generous term for what she did. Her eyes fell on the crimson droplets dotting her spear. His screams still echoed in her mind. 

A loud huff jolted her out of her thoughts. Miyu smiled, resting her head against her horse.

“Gekido,” she mumbled, “please rest. We have to stay here until our target comes along.” She let out a frustrated sigh. “Leave it to a damned samurai to meander around Tsushima at his leisure."

She wanted to kill this man now more than she ever did. Not only did she have to travel from Castle Kaneda to...she couldn’t remember where she was at the moment. Either way, she had to follow several trails that turned cold, remind Mongol camps of who she was multiple times, and she almost stumbled off of a cliff trying to smack a particularly bold bandit away from her dinner. Even if none of those things happened, her objective was to observe, not kill. Learn his methods, listen to his plans, then tear it all asunder in her meetings with the Khan.

Ushering in Jin Sakai’s downfall was a satisfying exchange.

Miyu closed her eyes, tuning in to Gekido’s breaths and the autumn wind. Quiet meant some time to herself. Maybe she would sleep, if her body was so inclined. It was difficult to find serene spots to rest, what with the Mongol habits of loud invasions and even louder subjugation. Their language had no volume control. Just guttural demands and gnashing rage. A small thing to put up with in their service, though it rattled her skull on weary days. 

A distant whinny snapped her eyes open. Gekido’s ears flicked at the sound. Miyu sat up, brushing hair out of her face as she scanned the horizon. A group of Mongols, likely testing how long a peasant lasts until they break from fear. She almost leaned back again, if not for another figure closing in quickly on the scene. They were close enough to make out some details. The color of the horse was a beautiful gray, the tail tapering from black into white. She raised an eyebrow at the horse’s bridle. Its design was unmistakable. 

“Samurai,” she breathed. “It’s about time.” Miyu clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. Gekido perked up and got to his feet. She climbed up and settled on his back. “Let’s go!”

Gekido took off towards the scene, kicking up dirt and dust in his wake. Miyu steadied the spear in her right hand. She picked out more details as she drew closer. It was a Mongol convoy, stopped in the middle of the road all to chase after one peasant. Almost a shame she had to aid in the disposal of the group, if only to keep her target alive for the time being. There was an archer on the sidelines, far enough from the main group. It was almost too easy. 

Miyu’s grip on the spear tightened, eyes focused on the lone Mongol. He readied an arrow, aimed to shoot straight for the enemy. A few more strides and Gekido would trample the man. The Mongol stopped just as he was about to shout for his comrades to duck. Too little too late. Miyu swung her spear straight into the man’s stomach, her speed and force knocking him into the air and tumbling him face first into the grass. Miyu pulled Gekido to a stop, hopping off of his back. She glanced behind her. The fight still raged, though her target was a touch startled by a Mongol taking flight. She suppressed a smile, then turned her attention to the road. A lone peasant knelt in the dirt, but brightened at the sight of her. Her stomach churned at the man’s sudden optimism. 

“Over here!” he whispered. “Please!”

Miyu took another quick glance behind her before walking over to the peasant. 

“Stay still.” She pulled out her tanto and cut him free of his bonds. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, my Lady.”

Miyu paused, then remembered the armor she was wearing. She dismissed the urge to correct him.

“Avoid the roads,” she continued. “These convoys are everywhere. Head for the Golden Temple. I hear they still have enough supplies for more survivors.”

“Thank you.”

Miyu watched him for a moment to be sure he moved out of sight. It was then an enraged shout came from behind her. She whipped around, her spear clashing with Mongolian swords. Miyu shoved the Mongol away and whacked him two times in rapid succession. Enough to draw blood, but not enough to kill. She blocked another attack before a katana cut into the man’s neck. He dropped almost instantly. She stared at his body, catching her breath, hoping no one escaped the scene and recognized her.

“Who are you?”

She straightened up, getting a better look at the man she’d been pursuing. The expression on his face was one of judgment, but the stories never lied: he was as handsome as nearly every young lady her age told her. What struck her most, however, aside from his toned physique, were his eyes. Even as he stared at her so harshly, there was kindness contained within them. They sought the best in someone he’d never met, deep brown eyes searching for the truth. 

He’d be digging for it long after she was done with him.

“Ah!” Miyu bowed slightly. “Forgive me, I’m still worn from my travels. My name is Miyu. And you?”

“Jin Sakai.”

She widened her eyes in fake surprise. “Alive? I was informed no samurai survived Komoda.”

“And yet you’re wearing part of a samurai’s armor.” Jin crossed his arms. “Care to explain that?”

Miyu looked towards the ground. “Of course, my lord.” The words left a horrid taste in her mouth. “I, too, was at Komoda during the battle. Caught in the crossfire during my travels. I was running an errand for my father, though I knew I would not live through the onslaught without some form of protection. I pulled these pieces off of a corpse to save myself. Dishonorable, I know, but I am one of the only lifelines to my family’s trade. I had to survive.”

“And the spear?”

Miyu shifted her grip on her weapon. “Given to me by the Khan.”

“ _ What? _ ”

“Allow me to finish. Please.” His expression softened ever so slightly. “The Khan witnessed me stealing the armor. He thought me entirely disillusioned with Tsushima, enough to take what I needed and never look back. In his eyes, he recruited me, offered me protection if I served him as a spy. Infiltrate whatever defenses Tsushima has left.” Gekido wandered behind her. She reached back and pet his muzzle. “In reality, however, I’ve been feeding the Mongols false information. Twisting whatever I discover to make them think they have the complete advantage. Until now, though, I’ve had no one to relay correct information to. I’d heard rumblings of a samurai surviving the massacre, but put no faith into the rumor. The Khan had other plans.”

“You were at Castle Kaneda?”

Miyu nodded. “Briefly. Only to report back and receive my next task.”

“Which was?”

She stood the spear up and leaned on it, gripping the upper half. “To find the jito’s nephew and pose as his ally...until the time was right.” Miyu paused. A small smile crossed her lips as she let out a breath through her nose. “The Khan is many things, but a mind reader he is not. I acted subservient enough, and he took the bait. Amazing what men will fall for when the words they wish to hear fall from your mouth like fresh water.”

Jin raised an eyebrow. “If you are sneaking behind the Khan’s back, how can I be sure you’re trustworthy enough to not sneak behind mine?”

“You pose a fair question.” Miyu straightened up. “Allow me to accompany you. The best way to learn about me is through observation, but surely you know this. See me through whatever tasks you see fit, and I will prove to be a valuable asset in the liberation of our home. So long as we leave no Mongol witnesses, the Khan never has to discover my treachery until I choose to unveil it.”

She watched Jin’s face as he mulled over her offer. Half truths, all of it, and he took in every single one. He was a trusting sort by nature. This she knew purely because he gave her a chance to explain herself instead of immediately branding her a traitor. In a way, it was fresh air in a system of harsh laws. She almost felt guilty for leading him astray like this.

Almost.

Jin nodded after another moment or two. “Fair enough. But you’ll remove that armor at once. If you’re as skilled with that spear as you are confident, you won’t be needing it.”

Miyu stopped herself from rolling her eyes and complied. Samurai and their armor. It was treated more like a sacred artifact than something to be beaten and shattered in battle. Her shoulders thanked her, though. As she placed the half set neatly against a nearby rock, she remembered just how heavy it was. Wielding the spear would be easier than ever without all of that getting in her way. She sighed and turned around, only to find Jin approaching Gekido.

“Is this horse stolen, as well?” he inquired. 

“No,” she replied. “He’s the pride and joy of my family. I call him Gekido."

Gekido’s white tail flicked back and forth in irritation. She suppressed a laugh as Jin walked closer. 

“I hope you don’t give every horse a name with such connotations.” Jin offered his hand for Gekido to sniff. Gekido snarled and moved to bite him. Jin stepped back immediately. “Easy, boy.”

“He has the name for a reason,” Miyu commented, walking up and stroking Gekido’s mane as he tilted his head down towards her. “Gekido is fine with other horses, but hates most people. Useful when fighting, troublesome otherwise.” 

“His size alone should frighten the Mongols. Twice that of a samurai horse.”

She let out a short laugh. “Oh, he does.” Miyu peeked behind Jin, spotting the gray horse from earlier. Compared to Gekido, he was a foal, though he was well-trained and wore his beautiful colored adornments with pride. The horse bumped Jin’s back with his muzzle. She bit back a giggle. “What’s his name?”

“Nobu,” Jin said, petting Nobu’s head. 

“He’s fond of you.” It wasn’t difficult to see why, either. Jin was gentle with his horse, almost too soft. If Gekido gave him the chance, Jin likely would have scratched behind his ears. She shook her head, placed her spear on her back and climbed onto Gekido. 

“So,” Miyu began, “where are we off to first?”

Jin settled on Nobu’s back. “There are rumors of another samurai residing in Kashine. Lord Jinroku. Have you heard of him?”

She racked her brain for a moment. “The name escapes me. I’ve heard no whispers of it in my travels.”

“Nor have I, until recently. But if he does exist, we could use his help. One more samurai is another force we have against the Mongols.”

Jin directed Nobu west and took off. Miyu stared after him for a moment. There was something about this man, something she couldn’t place, that was different from other samurai she’d met in the past. A fiery resolve stirred within him, though carefully hidden by his calm demeanor. Such was the way of samurai. But fire, though luminous and full of promise, hardly stayed contained forever.

Miyu followed Jin’s lead, puzzling how best to unleash an inferno in her favor.


	2. False Lord

Miyu stared ahead as they crested over another hill. The path they'd chosen was swarmed by falling leaves, swirling in their fiery cacophony. Gekido caught one in his mouth and munched on it without complaint. She wasn't about to stop him from doing so. Food was scarce enough. At least he could stomach the taste of dead leaves in place of a proper meal. Some days, she wished she could be so content, stuffing a yellow ginko or a bright red maple leaf in her mouth and calling it delicious without so much as a flinch. 

She pushed a stray leaf out of her face and rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand. They were still so heavy, even after a spot of rest. All they begged for was to remain shut for more than an hour. She shoved the urge to the back of her mind. Talking to another samurai was much less taxing than trudging back to Castle Kaneda with no new information. At least here, if she had to feign intrigue, it would be under less scrutiny. 

“What is this place?”

Miyu blinked. She almost forgot she was traveling with another person now. At Jin’s voice, she refocused on the scene in front of them. After hours of travel, the trees around them broke into a small, grassy plot of land. She expected to gaze upon a strong perimeter, stone walls surrounding a gorgeous estate, complete with all of the niceties afforded to samurai. Perhaps there would be flowers dotting the rolling land, carefully arranged to whisper their secrets to passersby as the gentle breeze caressed the rainbow of petals. What they found, however, was rather humble. A wooden archway stood in greeting on the trail, flanked by a smaller wooden fence. Beyond it sat tiny plots of farmland. A handful of women tended to the crops within. Behind them was one of the quaintest houses she’d ever seen, especially for someone of such supposed stature. It had no sturdy walls, sprawling rooftops, or carefully decorated entryway with all of the love only centuries of family legacy could afford to keep. Instead, the roof feathered in only the way a thatched roof could, and the old wooden walls showed signs of wear and decay. Patches of moss clung to the bottommost portions of the house. It was cozy, but nothing a samurai would ordinarily call home. 

“I’d no idea someone of this rank would settle for refuge in such modest accommodations,” Miyu remarked. “Perhaps he lost his estate to a Mongol raid.”

“I intend to find out,” Jin replied. He dismounted Nobu and started towards the house. Miyu patted Gekido on his head and followed suit. She crossed the rocky border leading to the house, noting a red flower growing out from under one of the rocks. Delicate, but resilient. She brushed her hand against one of the wooden supports as she stepped towards the sliding door. Old pollen and dirt clung to her hand. Miyu discreetly wiped it onto the nearest wall when she walked inside. 

The interior was about as ordinary as the outside, although hardly a speck of dust could be found. Perhaps, even in meager abodes, a samurai still demanded some sense of order. As plain as it was, however, the house retained a gentle warmth. The subtle scent of herbs tickled her nose. A few women tended to chores on Miyu’s left, while others sat on mats to her right. Plain pottery rested on the shelves behind them. It likely had more practical use than decorative.

“We thought you were Lord Jinroku,” one of the women said to Jin, “but you’re another samurai. Welcome, my lord.” She gestured towards Miyu. “And to your honored guest, as well.”

Miyu gave the woman a small bow before approaching and taking a seat on an empty mat. At least they had the decency to not assume she was a servant of some kind. 

“Another samurai?” Jin inquired as he took a seat near her.

“You haven’t heard of Lord Jinroku?” The peasant woman smiled. “He’s a legendary samurai.”

“I’d like to meet him,” Jin said. “When will he return?”

“Soon! Join us for dinner. Perhaps he’ll share one of his grand stories with you.”

Miyu exchanged a quick look with Jin. As far as she knew, samurai weren’t the type to boast about their escapades so readily. Then again, many a vain man vied for such a title. One of them could have slipped through the rigorous cracks, so to speak, although Jin’s face said otherwise. Something tumbled around in his mind. 

“What is Lord Jinroku like?” Miyu asked. “I regret to say I hardly know of the man myself.”

“He’s a kind and generous man,” the woman replied.

“Humble, as well,” Miyu commented. “I know of no samurai who picks such a small house to call his own.”

“Oh, very humble.”

Miyu bit back a laugh. Either these women were a part of an elaborate set up, or this man had them wrapped around his finger, despite whatever personality he held. She settled her hands in her lap. Horse hooves galloped on nearby dirt. Footsteps plodded their way towards the house. She turned her gaze towards the door. 

“I’m back from my dangerous mission!” a man’s voice called. Miyu raised an eyebrow, but otherwise stayed silent. “Don’t worry, I am unharmed!”

The door slid open, then shut with an unceremonious slap of wood against wood. Jinroku certainly dressed the part, donned in red samurai armor. His stance, however, was slouched, as if he were unaccustomed to the armor’s weight. It was subtle, but enough to be noticed by a semi-trained eye. His expression morphed into one of surprise. 

“Oh,” Jinroku began, “I wasn’t expecting visitors.” He bowed slightly. “We’re happy to have you, of course!”

“Hmm,” Jin replied. Suspicion oozed out of his tone. “Thank you. I didn’t realize any other samurai had survived.”

“It was a fierce battle, wasn’t it?” Jinroku took a seat across from them. “The beaches of Komatsu ran red with blood that...terrible day.”

Miyu glanced at Jin again. His face contorted with confusion. 

“...We fought at Komoda.”

Jinroku’s expression turned sheepish. She was surprised his flushed skin didn’t set his armor ablaze. He let out a short laugh. “Of course. Forgive me, I’m tired from a long ride. Please, have Nabe show you the bath. We can speak more over dinner.”

Miyu looked at Jin and glanced between him and Jinroku. Jin gave her a subtle shake of his head. At least they were of the same mind at that moment. He got up and followed Nabe towards the bath, leaving Miyu with Jinroku.

An excellent opportunity to do what she did best. 

“So,” Jinroku said, “what brings you into the company of a fellow samurai?”

Miyu smiled a little. “I encountered him on the road, fighting a horde of Mongols. He’s a talented swordsman, but one man can only fend off so many enemies. Surely you know such a thing.”

“O-Of course.” Jinroku cleared his throat. “I apologize, the cold must be getting to my voice.”

“Hmm.” She tilted her head slightly. “Are you certain it isn’t from the lies you so readily spin?”

Jinroku glared at her. It was more akin to an angry puppy. “Are you mocking me?”

“Not at all,” she replied, “but I know a liar when I see one.” She gestured towards him. “Your abode is that of a peasant. I was willing to let it pass, were it not for your obvious pain from the armor you’re wearing. And Komatsu? It has seen battle, but none so fierce as Komoda.” Miyu straightened up. “So, enlighten me: why do you pose as a warrior? You fool no actual samurai, and no doubt my companion will return any moment to question you. What have you to gain from such an act of deceit?”

She studied Jinroku’s face. Beads of sweat ran down his skin. His eyes took on the all too familiar sheen of fear. He was posed to run, but made no move. Yet. 

“Listen,” he started, his voice wavering, “I’m only trying to survive.” Jinroku pointed towards the spear on her back. “And what of you? That is no Japanese steel you’re carrying. You must understand my situation.”

“Do not shift the focus of our conversation. Such tactics won’t help you.” Miyu crossed her arms. “Your act is idiotic, at best, and you blatantly wield supposed authority over those who look to the samurai for guidance and peace. I don’t care for the samurai code, but I cannot accept such a stunning abuse of power.”

Jinroku glanced towards the door, then back at her. “There must be some way we can come to an agreement.” He leaned in her direction. “You’re a beautiful woman, and you have experience in lying. That Mongol spear says it all. Surely you can take him aside and...convince him?”

Miyu stared directly into his eyes. One of the women next to her let out a small gasp. Miyu’s left hand slipped towards the handle of her tanto. 

“Care to clarify?" she asked, her voice low.

"Oh, no, please, don't misunderstand-"

"There  _ is _ no misunderstanding." She took a deep breath, then released it. "I will  _ not _ be swayed by your hideous suggestions. Is that clear?"

A long period of silence floated between them before Jinroku, in an act of utter lunacy, stood up and threw the door open, running as fast as his armored legs could carry him.

" _ Get back here!"  _ Miyu scrambled to her feet and bolted out of the house. She skimmed the area and caught the gleam of red armor in the evening sun. Her eye twitched. She let out a shrill whistle. Gekido came galloping from a nearby patch of grass. Miyu threw herself onto his back and leaned close to his ears. "That one.  _ Go!" _

Gekido sped towards Jinroku, neighing viciously as he drew closer. The man was faster than he should have been. Given the armor, Miyu was certain he would be slower. Despite his speed, he would be hard pressed to outrun Gekido. Said horse snapped his teeth at Jinroku's neck once they were in range. Jinroku let out a yelp of surprise, but continued on his fool's trek. Another pair of footsteps dashed behind them. Miyu glanced back, only to see Jin chasing after them. She turned her gaze forward, torn between a frustrated growl and an amused chuckle. 

Jinroku stumbled to a stop once he reached an open grassy area dotted with small flowers. He turned, trembling at Miyu's approach. She tugged Gekido's reins, slowing him to a leisurely walk around their target. 

"Please," he pleaded, "let me go!"

Gekido snapped his teeth at Jinroku again, scaring him backwards. Miyu stroked Gekido's mane. "Ah, what did I say? No biting unless I say so. You know better, Gekido." She glared at her target. "But if he runs again, you have my full permission."

" _ Enough. _ "

Miyu turned her head. Gekido snorted indignantly. Jin had finally caught up with them, and he looked none too excited about the scene he walked into. It was funny, the way his eyebrows furrowed in frustration. Miyu held back a giggle, maintaining her annoyed expression. Jinroku, on the other hand, perked up at the sight of Jin.

"My lord!" he exclaimed. "I challenge you to a duel!"

Jin stopped.

"You want to fight me?" he asked.

"Yes," Jinroku insisted. "It's the only way."

Miyu snorted. "You run from a horse but expect a duel? You toe a fine line."

Jim held up a hand. "If that's your wish, I accept." He looked up at her. "Miyu."

She hesitated, but sighed and clicked her tongue twice. Gekido trotted to the outer perimeter of the area. What this man hoped to gain out of a duel with Jin, she had no idea, but she would not be denied the opportunity to watch. She guided Gekido to a distant resting spot, then turned him to face the makeshift arena. 

If this were any other duel, the scene might have been poetic. One samurai pitted against another in an unspoken feud, the dark streaks of night encroaching upon their grassy battlefield while red and orange rays of light fought for dominance. Specks of bright pollen floated past them, little spectators whisked away by the shifting breeze. To an outsider, it was beautiful, the epitome of a silent, tragic story. In reality, it was a child’s fight imposed upon a backdrop too gorgeous for such spats. Miyu shook her head. If only she had something proper to eat while she watched.

She combed her fingers through Gekido’s mane. Ever so slowly, Jin drew his blade. Jinroku’s hand remained poised over the handle of his own. From that distance, he looked to be frozen in time, a statue amongst living things. Perhaps the bumbling act was a ploy to lure Jin into a duel he could never win. Unlikely, but not out of the question. Miyu steadied her gaze on him, watching for any abnormal movements. 

By the time she blinked, Jinroku stumbled backwards, then held his hands up in front of his face. He never drew his weapon.

“Wait! I don’t want to die. I surrender! I’m sorry!”

Miyu groaned and planted her face in Gekido’s neck. 

“Time utterly wasted,” she growled. Miyu tapped the side of Gekido’s neck, still not lifting her head as he meandered over towards the two men. She looked up just in time to see Jin putting away his katana. Jinroku knelt on the ground. 

“Tell me who you really are!” Jin demanded. 

Jinroku let out a panicked breath. “I’m nobody! I was just trying to survive.” He gestured towards Miyu. “I tried to tell her that, but she chased me with her demon of a horse instead!”

“And  _ you _ ran from me when you could have calmly explained yourself,” Miyu retorted. “Not only that, you attempted to manipulate me into keeping your thinly veiled secret. How did you expect me to respond?”

“That’s not-”

“Enough.” Jin crossed his arms. “You’re impersonating a samurai and bringing dishonor to the name. And you’re taking advantage of those women!”

“I know!” Jinroku got to his feet, hands trembling. “Please, my lord, let me live. I’ll never go back there again!”

Miyu watched Jin’s face closely. For the most part, it was as calm as ever, but his dark eyes spoke of his deliberation. If it were completely up to her, Jinroku would be stripped of that armor and smacked a few times, at the very least. Jin, however, likely had other plans. 

“Leave,” Jin commanded. “And if I ever see you wearing that armor again, we will finish our duel.”

Jinroku turned and ran without a moment’s hesitation, his hurried footsteps crushing the fresh grass beneath them. Miyu stared after him until he disappeared from view. Jin let out a frustrated sigh. 

“Fool,” he muttered. Jin looked up at Miyu. “Do you chase after every liar on your horse?”

“If they warrant it,” she replied. “Do you threaten every impersonator with death for a repeat offense?”

He let out another sigh. “We’ll discuss this later. We should tell those women the truth.”

Miyu nodded and steered Gekido in the direction of the house, keeping him at a slow trot to match Jin’s pace. The simple home looked colder in the din of twilight, though the subtle waves of smoke coming from the roof said otherwise. She dismounted and followed Jin inside, hoping these women wouldn’t be too surprised by the news. If this man were somehow protecting them, leaving them with nothing would not bode well. 

“Lord Sakai,” one of the women said, standing up. “Welcome back.”

“Jinroku wasn’t the man you thought,” Jin began. “He wasn’t a samurai at all.”

“Ah.” The woman paused. “He told you the truth.”

Miyu blinked. “You knew he was lying?”

The woman nodded. “He seemed harmless, and we enjoyed having him around. I hope neither of you killed him.”

Miyu let out a sharp puff of air through her nose and crossed her arms. 

“He’s alive,” Jin replied, “but he won’t be coming back.”

“I’ll tell the others he left on an important mission.” The woman bowed to them. “We were fine without him. We will be again.” She gestured towards the pot of food nearby. “Please, allow me to give you a little food for your journey.”

The woman packed some food for them in simple cloth and sent them on their way. Miyu stared at the small sack once she mounted Gekido. It was a dark blue, not unlike the ocean. She smiled a bit. The soft material reminded her of…

Miyu looked away and moved Gekido forward.

“That amount of terror wasn’t necessary,” Jin commented. 

She looked over at him. Well, more like over and down. She’d almost forgotten how small Nobu was. “And what of you? You dangled the possibility of death over him, should he worm his way into the armor again. Isn’t that another form of terror?”

“That was a matter of honor,” he retorted, “and enough to ensure it will never happen again. Your chase was excessive.”

Miyu shrugged. “Sometimes, terror is the only language men understand. There are those that don’t truly understand the consequences of their actions unless you drive fear deep into their hearts.”

“Kindness can do much of the same thing.”

She chuckled. “You assume the hearts of men to be innately kind, then. A noble notion.” She fiddled with Gekido’s reins. “Do you intend to defeat the Mongols with such kindness?”

“I know when to draw my blade and when to spare someone from it. Cruelty for the sake of it is dishonorable and destructive.” Miyu felt his stare on her. “I hope, in your endeavors, such tactics haven’t been forced upon you by the Mongols.”

Miyu stared down at her hands. Dried blood sat crusted under several of her fingernails.

“No,” she said. “I still have  _ some _ autonomy.”


End file.
